


There's No Rain in Houston

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, M/M, Time Shenanigans, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Karkat stumble upon a dream bubble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Rain in Houston

**Author's Note:**

> for dong666. ♥
> 
> creative liberties were taken with time travel mechanics. 
> 
> i'd like to imagine there's an alternate dead dave and karkat somewhere else in the bubble.

Karkat is absentmindedly organizing his bookshelf for the thousandth time when Dave asks, “Do you ever miss home?”

 

It’s late, past midnight, and they are the only ones still awake, as per usual. Karkat twists around on the floor, holding the third volume of a controversial series about quadrant vacillating; it’s one of his favorites as he can relate to it well, but he was never able to get the last book.

 

Dave is curled up on top of the pile of random scraps of cloth and pillows and old clothes shoved into the corner of the room. A red sweatshirt peeks out from the bottom, and Karkat bets there is also a horn buried somewhere.

  
He sets his book down because Dave has slipped those stupid glasses off and is only wearing a t-shirt, binder absent, and a pair of shorts. It’s quiet and relaxing. They’ve been having more moments like these recently, Dave slipping into Karkat’s room uncharacteristically silent, lying down completely unguarded; just watching Karkat without talking. It annoyed the troll until he grew used to the rhythm of Dave’s breathing and the sight of his fragile human body lost in the pile of cushions.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks lowly, keeping his voice neutral.

 

Dave shrugs, picking at a loose string. He frowns and pulls out the red hoodie by its sleeve. “Is this mine?”

 

“You left it here,” Karkat defends immediately. “You leave all kinds of shit here.”

 

Dave snorts and throws it on, lifts the collar to his nose. “It smells like you.”

 

Karkat’s ears fold back. “Stop being weird,” he mutters.

 

Dave smirks at him, then sits up suddenly, brow furrowed. “Did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?” Karkat looks around. “There’s nothing, you idiot.”

 

“No, man, seriously.”

 

Dave walks to the window. Karkat clambers up after him and looks over his shoulder. A pink, membranous skyscraper creeping toward them.

 

“It’s a dream bubble,” Karkat says.

 

Dave runs out of the room, up to the roof, and Karkat has no choice but to follow. Dave clutches his wrist and Karkat squeezes his eyes shut at the contact. When he opens them they are standing on a city street, tall buildings looming over them from every direction, scraggly trees boxed in by cast iron fences. Everything is covered in a bubblegum haze.

Dave stares at it all, mouth agape. “Dave?” Karkat asks.

 

“This is Houston,” Dave says. He turns, still holding Karkat’s wrist, bursting with excitement. “Dude, this is Houston!”

 

The word sounds familiar but Karkat can’t remember where he heard it. “Are we on Earth?”

 

“Yes. Holy shit. This is where I lived.”

 

“Oh.” Karkat swallows. He looks up and sees thick roiling clouds climbing on top of each other above the apartment blocks. Then they abruptly freeze in place, frozen and pregnant with unfallen rain.

 

“Come on,” Dave orders, tugging his arm. Karkat turns away from the sky.

 

He’s lead down the middle of the street. Dave bursts into a large brown building and runs into the elevator. He is pressing the top button even after the doors close.

“Is this your whole respiteblock?” Karkat asks.

 

Dave shakes his head, distracted, still jamming the panel He finally steps out into the hallway, uses his shoulder to shove a door open, and stumbles into a living room.

 

The walls are white, the carpet is stained, garbage is everywhere. Karkat opens his mouth to say something but the words die on his lips. He follows Dave through the kitchen, down a hallway, and into a bedroom.

 

“This is my room,” Dave says. He stands before a turntable. “It looks just like how I left it.”

 

Karkat ducks under a string of photographs and sits on the unmade bed. “Great decorating.”

 

Dave grins. He sits beside Karkat. “Thanks.”

 

Suddenly aware of their closeness, Karkat turns to look out the window. “It’s going to rain.”

 

“I like the rain. It’s usually too hot here.”

 

“Alternia is the same way.”

  
Dave lies down and closes his eyes. Karkat stares at him unabashedly, looks at his freckles and scars and chapped lips. He shuffles closer and gently touches a white line hooking over Dave’s jaw. “How did you get this one?” he asks.

 

Dave tosses an arm over his eyes. “Sword nicked me.”

 

Karkat observes the underside of Dave’s arm, where rows of scars sit too neatly to not be on purpose. He trails his fingertips over them, then presses down against a long line stretching from Dave’s ulna to his humerus. “What about this one?”

 

“Knife.”

 

There’s a bumpy patch of pink skin on his elbow. “And this one?”

 

“Fell down and tore the skin off.”

 

They waste time like this, cataloging old injuries. Karkat likes the scars and callouses on Dave’s hands best. His fingers look prettier marred. Dave takes his turn too. He’s especially fascinated with the grub scars lining Karkat’s ribs. Karkat lies, says his gills are scars too, and pulls his shirt down.

 

Soon they are lying on their sides, facing each other and talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, Karkat starts to fall asleep.

 

“Let’s stay here forever,” Dave suggests.

 

“Okay,” Karkat says.

 

He thinks Dave says something else, but is unable to catch it.

 

When he wakes up it is still gray outside, the clouds loyally staying in place like trained dogs. Dave is awake, head turned toward the window. When he glances over his eyes soften, red and warm. “Hey,” he whispers.

 

Karkat swallows and stares at the Polaroids above them. “How long has it been?”

 

Dave shrugs against his side. “I dunno. A few hours, maybe.”

 

Dave’s knuckles are touching the back of Karkat’s hand, so small and fragile and porcelain white, lined with cracks. Pink collects at the beds of his stubby claws. His thumb twitches.

 

“What do you want to do?” Karkat quietly asks.

 

“We’ll go everywhere. There’s a pool down the street. And a gas station the other way.” Dave’s voice grows increasingly dreamy. “I’ll show you everything.”

 

He sits up, hand falling away from Karkat’s. Karkat holds his hand against his chest, suddenly cold.

 

The clouds outside sit unfazed as they leave the building and walk across the middle of the road. Dave has a backpack filled with random items for their adventure.

 

Karkat is enamored with the cars lining the sidewalks. He’d seen them before from his husktop, but never in person. They look like strange hulls covered in beetle skin, metal cages of death.

 

“I should have my license by now,” Dave says, standing beside a silver one. He places his hand against its hood. “Isn’t that weird?”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Karkat says awkwardly. He wishes he could make the pain in Dave’s eyes go away, or at least return to the meteor to get Dave’s sunglasses so he doesn’t have to see it.

 

“Sometimes I think about what would happen if I never went through any of this. If I stayed home and lived a normal life on Earth.”

 

“I try not to think about Alternia.” Karkat stares at all the random trash on the sidewalk. “I’d probably be dead by now.”

 

Dave’s lips quirk. He lifts his head and wordlessly continues walking.

 

The pool is fenced in a handful of blocks away, bordered by dry grass and worn lounge chairs. Dave tosses his backpack over and climbs up after it; Karkat begrudgingly follows suit.

 

“Live a little,” Dave chides. He pulls off the hoodie and drops it onto the dead yellow grass spread out around them. His bare human chest is exposed in the sun. Karkat does not know if Dave is comfortable leaving it vulnerable because he is an alien, of if Dave somehow trusts him enough to feel safe. Karkat blinks at the second thought and quickly sits down to occupy himself.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dave folds the band of his boxers as he walks toward Karkat. “You aren’t going to swim?”

 

Karkat reddens. “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because.”

 

Dave lifts an eyebrow. Karkat resolutely crosses his arms. “It’s my business,” he states.

 

But Dave continues to stare. .

 

Karkat scowls. “Knock it off!”

 

“Is it a troll thing?” Dave inquires. He sits down across from Karkat on the grass. “Are you like cats?”

 

Karkat bites the inside of his lip. “I’ve never swam before,” he mumbles.

 

“That’s it?” Dave is amused. He looks around and runs to a shed. “Hold on.”

 

Karkat twists around and calls, “Dave, I’m not getting in.”

 

Dave returns with two hot pink plastic sleeves and blows air into them. They look like huge inflated bracelets. “Here.” He hands them over, grinning cheekily. “They’re arm floaties.”

 

Karkat pushes them away. “I’m not wearing this!”

 

“Aw, come on! We’ll stay in the shallow end.”

 

“Dave, swimming is a culturally sensitive—”

 

“You’re not on Alternia anymore, man. Who cares? It’s just me.”

 

Karkat inhales at the way Dave says ‘it’s just me,’ at the implication of some sort of close bond between them. He grits his teeth and pulls his shirt over his head. “I can’t believe this.”

 

“No one will know,” Dave promises, giddy as a wriggler. “You’ll have fun. I got you.”

 

He needs to stop saying those things or else Karkat’s bloodpusher is going to explode. “Give me those,” he snaps, yanking the floaties and shoving them onto his wrists.

 

Dave snorts.

 

“What?” Karkat narrows his eyes.

 

“You put 'em on up here.” Dave holds his hand and forces the plastic up to his shoulders. “Like this.”

 

“Thanks.” Karkat rolls his eyes.

 

Dave sprints to the edge of the pool, vaults off the cement, and crashes into the water. Karkat flinches back at the spray. Dave resurfaces seconds later with his hair plastered to his head. “Shit! It’s fucking cold.”

 

“Great,” Karkat deadpans.

 

“C-Come on.” Dave’s teeth chatter together.

 

Karkat walks to the side with the stairs leading into the water and stands on the top step. “There. Happy?” The water sits at his ankles.

 

 

Dave swims forward, working his strong back muscles, and stops at the end of the stairs, legs folded so his shoulders stay underneath the water. “No. You’re a fucking pansy.”

 

“Shut up. You’re lucky I’m even here.”

 

“No one’s making you stay. Walk on back home, you little baby.”

 

Karkat sighs and takes another step. The water rises to his calves. “Okay.”

 

“Little more,” Dave encourages.

 

“No. This is fine. Dave... Dave, stop it!”

 

Dave jumps up and scoops Karkat off of the steps. “Shit,” he gasps, staggering back, “you’re fucking heavy.”

 

Karkat beats his back. “Put me down! Let me go!”

 

“Isn’t this fun?” Dave asks. “Maybe I want to hold you.”

 

Once the water reaches his shoulder blades Dave fumbles and Karkat slips from his grasp and sinks underneath the water. He clasps his hands around his sides when his gills open and pushes off the bottom of the pool. Dave is laughing when he resurfaces.

 

“You fucking idiot!” Karkat pushes Dave away and immediately wraps his arms around himself. “You—you—”

 

Dave’s smile slides away. “Are you okay?”

 

“No, I’m not okay, Dave!”

 

Karkat stomps back to the steps of the pool and punctures holes in the idiotic plastic encasing his arms with his claws. Dave wades over and quietly stands before Karkat, whose

back is turned.

 

“You know,” Dave says, “not a lot of people think guys should have boobs. I don’t worry about it around you, though. And, I mean, if you got some freaky troll thing, too, then—then you’re in the right place.”

 

“They’re gills,” Karkat says. “Only highbloods are supposed to have them.”

 

“But you aren’t a highblood.”

 

“Fucking obviously!” Karkat spins around, purses his lips, and does not know what to say.

 

Dave lifts his hand, palm upward. “Come ‘ere.”

 

Karkat walks to the bottom of the steps. Dave takes one of his hands and leads it to his chest.

 

“Oh—” Karkat says.

 

Dave curls his fingers around Karkat’s. “See? I don’t care. I don’t give a shit.”

 

“Um—”

 

“Whenever I hated myself I realized I was still thinking about all the shit that got fed into my brain back home. Back here." The water moves in ripples around their legs. "Except that’s all gone now. So I stopped worrying about it." Dave looks into Karkats eyes. "And it was so easy when I was with you.”

 

“Is that why you always come into my respiteblock?” Karkat whispers. Dave’s skin is prickly with cold water.

“Yeah. A little bit.”

 

“What... What was the other bit?”

 

Dave grins. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

He leans forward, tips his head up, and their hands press together in between their chests as Dave gently brushes his lips against Karkat’s. Karkat freezes, unsure of what to do, barely able to breathe.

 

“Is this okay?” Dave asks.

 

Karkat nods. He bumps his forehead against Dave’s, takes Dave’s hand and leads it to his ribcage. Dave tentatively strokes a gill with his thumb.

 

"Wow," Dave breathes.

 

"Okay." Karkat takes his hand away.

 

“Wait.” Before he can let go Dave holds onto his wrist. "Thanks."

  
“Yeah.”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“I know.”

 

Satisfied, Dave falls backwards into the pool.

 

The reflection of the clouds shatters and melts back together. Then Karkat breaks them again. His knees scrape against the stucco bottom of the pool as he feels his gills open, as he feels his thick hair undulate around his horns. Dave’s foot smacks against his shoulder. He opens his eyes.

 

He sinks to the bottom of the deep end and sits, letting his gills breathe for him. Dave treads above him, dipping down now and then to smile and hover around. He teaches Karkat how to play Marco Polo and flip off the edge of the pool.

 

 

Dave pulls towels out of his backpack when they are done. Karkat wants to stay, but Dave has other plans. He pulls his shirt back on, ties his hoodie around his waist, and throws his towel over his neck. When Karkat shakes his hair out there is a flash of light. Dave has a clunky Polaroid camera from his room.

 

They climb back over the fence and walk down the road. Dave’s great adventure ends up being the gas station he was talking about. The automatic doors open smoothly. No one is inside.

 

“Welcome to paradise,” Dave says.

 

The air conditioning smacks against the locks of hair plastered to Karkat’s neck. He looks down the snack aisles and shivers before a machine with rows of levers. “This is it?”

 

“‘This is it,’” Dave mocks. He picks up a cup, fills it with blue froth, and stabs it with a straw before passing it onto Karkat. “Try this.”

 

Karkat glances at him before taking a sip. “Eugh!” He thrusts it back to Dave. “That’s disgusting.”

 

“What! It’s a slushie.” Dave sets it onto the counter and unzips his bag and throws tons of random food in. “There’s gotta be something you like.”

 

“Isn’t this stealing?” Karkat asks.

 

Dave snorts. “Sorry I’m not a law-abiding dream bubble space citizen.”

 

Karkat’s ears twitch. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“Whatever.” Dave stands, takes his slushie, and swipes something from a stand beside the door. “Let’s go do something cool.”

 

He leads Karkat through alleys and main roads, past eerily empty strip malls and apartment blocks, underneath fire escapes and in between abandoned bike racks. The sky presses down against them the whole time. Karkat thinks one of the buildings might puncture a cloud and rain will explode upon them.

 

Dave enters a huge concrete complex. Their foot steps echo wetly against the walls.

 

“What is this?” Karkat asks.

 

“Parking garage,” Dave says.

 

A slow breeze picks up when they emerge at the top, the city laid out before them. Dave rests atop the ledge, backpack at his feet, and Karkat safely sits beside his legs, back firm against the wall. He thinks if he lifted his hand he could run his fingers through the sky.

 

Dave rifles around his bag and tosses a meat stick wrapped in plastic at Karkat’s chest. “Try that. It’s a Slim Jim.”

 

Karkat scrunches his nose. “A what?”

 

“Just eat it.” Dave fumbles around some more.

 

Karkat sighs and picks at the plastic with his claws until it peels away. The meat shreds quickly against his alien teeth. “It’s good,” he says, inspecting the wrapper.

 

“Duh.” Dave stands back from what he was preparing. “Come over here.”

 

Karkat does and looks down at the ground, Slim Jim plastic still in his hand. Two red sticks sit in beer bottle vases.

 

“What is it?”

 

Dave takes a lighter from his pocket. “Bottle rockets.”

 

He kneels down and flicks the wheel, then steps back and takes Karkat with him. Karkat holds onto his sleeve in anticipation. When the rockets whistle and pop in the air Dave glances at him and smiles.

 

Dave takes pictures everywhere they go as Karkat leaves behind a trail of Slim Jim wrappers. He lets Karkat hold the photos, who stores them in a pocket.

 

They stop at a park. Karkat is on a swing staring at the unmoving sky. “How long has it been?”

 

“What?” Dave has taken control of the metal slide tattooed in sharpie.

 

“How long has it been?” Karkat repeats, dropping his head. “Since we got here?”

 

“Oh.” Dave looks away. “I don’t know. What’s it matter?”

 

“Shouldn’t we head back?”

 

Dave slides down and stands in the wood chips. In the cloudy haze his shadows soften, his red eyes dim. “I want to do one more thing.”

 

“Dave, seriously.” Karkat walks toward him. “It’s been a whole day. I think.” He glances above them.

 

Dave walks out of the gate and onto the sidewalk. “Trust me,” he says, back turned to Karkat. “I promise we can go back after this.”

 

They walk and continue to walk and do not stop. Dave brushes Karkat’s questions off with “We’ll get there soon,” and “Just wait.” When Karkat grabs his shoulder and forces him to halt Dave’s resolve crumbles. “I just want to see,” he breathes.

 

“See what?” Karkat asks.

 

“If this isn’t a dream. If I’m really not home.”

 

“Dave—”

 

“I need to see the end.” Dave looks so anguished. “I need to.”

 

Karkat sets his jaw. “No.”

 

Dave scowls and smacks Karkat’s hand away. “Screw you, then.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Karkat stumbles over the sidewalk cracks when Dave starts walking again. “I don’t—Dave, you don’t need to see that.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Karkat flinches.

 

He does not say anything else, too unnerved at Dave’s disposition, and flicks his eyes to the swirled sky once more.

 

Dave rounds the corner of a street and freezes. Karkat nearly runs into his back.

 

“There it is,” Dave says flatly.

 

The land cuts off in jagged edges. The sky melts to invisibility, revealing the stars and the blackness and the forever waiting underneath.

 

Dave strides forward. Karkat wants to stop him but his voice catches in his throat.

 

Dave lifts a shaking hand to the pink membrane of the dream bubble’s womb. When he presses his fingertips against it Karkat does not breathe and the sheath ripples like disturbed water.

 

Karkat blacks out.

 

He surges back to consciousness similar to how he broke through the surface of the pool: recovering from the cold with an unnecessary breath of air. Dave is holding onto his shoulders with bloody knuckles and hair plastered onto his face. The clouds above them clap with thunder; it has finally rained.

 

“What—” Karkat says. “Dave, are you—”

 

Blood falls from Dave’s nose, onto his lips. “Yeah. Chill. I’m—”

 

Karkat’s eyes widen. He stumbles back and looks at the sky. Sheets of rain pour down. “You... You couldn’t have.”

 

“Karkat.” Dave’s voice is strangled. He is shaking. “Karkat, listen.”

 

“I can’t believe you!” Karkat yells. “You lied to me!”

 

“Don’t say that! I didn’t do anything!”

 

“You froze time, Dave! You froze time and I don’t even—”

 

Dave’s hand shoots up. The rain around them stills, and the only sound is their heavy breathing. Dave lowers his hand and the thunder returns. Karkat shakes his head, like he can’t believe it, whipping water off locks of hair.

 

“Stop it! Stop screwing around!”

 

“What’s so bad about it?” Dave insists, roaring over the storm. “We were having fun!”

 

“None of this is real! Do you just want to hide here for the rest of your life?”

 

Dave clenches his jaw.

 

Karkat sneers. “You’re pathetic.” He turns around.

 

“You don’t understand,” Dave says.

 

Karkat looks back. “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t miss home? Because I do. But I miss my real home, not some bullshit replica.” He resumes walking away. “I’m going back to the meteor. You can stay here forever. See if I care.”

 

Karkat’s footsteps splash through the rainwater as he leaves. Dave does not follow him. He quickens his pace when he sees the parking garage in the distance, and forces himself to not look back.

 

He walks through the city, retracing their steps until he arrives at Dave’s apartment building. He circles around Dave’s room one more time, and stops to take out the Polaroids from his back pocket. He strings them next to the existing photographs; better to leave them here, safe and frozen in time forever. Before he heads back outside, Karkat stops at the desk and picks up a lone snow globe of the Houston skyline.

 

He returns to the meteor soaking wet. Only ten minutes have passed. No one is awake: it’s as silent and still as it had been before they left.

 

Dave appears at his door sometime later, lips parted, eyes apologetic, skin covered in goosebumps and water.

 

Karkat takes the snowglobe out of his pocket and presses it into Dave’s soft human hand.

 

Together they glance at the shifting waters underneath the glass.

 


End file.
